Not A Servant!
by peaceandlove23
Summary: A mistake of title, a hurt hobbit, and a reassuring dwarf. (No Slash)


**Despite everything today I got this idea, which was inspired by chapter 16 of the book, when two elves refer to Bilbo as the dwarves servant.**

**Enjoy :)**

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'A servant. A servant, of all things!' Bilbo grumbled silently. His head-cold was not any better, or any worse, and now he sat wrapped in a warm blanket in the house the Master of LakeTown had given Thorin and the Company to rest in.

Or Thorin and Company, and their little servant.

Bilbo was sure no offence h ad been meant by the Master of LakeTown. And he was a sensible hobbit, despite all the adventures they've had since thirteen dwarves had shown up to Bag End. So of course it didn't pain him to acknowledge that anyone who did not know the company would think he was some sort of servant.

He was the littlest and (also despite time since that unexpected night) the most harmless and gentle-looking. He was also the only one who might have said 'Thank You' and 'If you please' to the nurses who had helped Oin patch their wounds.

Yes he knew that at first sight he could be mistaken for a servant. But it wasn't so much the mistake of calling him so, but that the dwarves had laughed! Even Thorin had a look of mirth about him.

He remembered the bustle of the banquet. They had all been seated next to one another and the table had been large and long and filled with much well prepared food. The Master of LakeTown sat at the head of the table.

Calling for quiet, he then made a speech to the dwarves; to Thorin. Bilbo had been only half-listening, and half-thinking about how he would not be able to taste most if any of what was laid on the table. Still, he was thankful of the kindness (after all hungry was hungry) though being full was always better when you could taste what was filling you.

Bilbo had been called from his thoughts when he heard the Master's last sentence : "To Thorin Oakenshield and Company!"

He had looked up and met the Master's eyes (by chance) and the Master then said, just as jovially, "And their little servant!"

That had caused a round of belly laughs from all. The dwarves first, who we're quiet as though realizing what was said, then they all nearly doubled over in laughter. The men followed suit to them, and soon the room was set to a roar of 'ha!'s and 'hehehe!'s.

All except Bilbo Baggins, who had been shocked to say the least and could barely bring himself to smile sheepishly, to try to match the merriment. But felt his face heat up as red as one of the tomatos.

That had been earlier in the evening, and during the whole of the banquet there was light teasing of his new moniker. Someone patting his head, asking if "our little servant" is enjoying himself, or he would ask politely for his glass to be refilled, the answer, "Of course! We need our tiny servant healthy now!"

That Bilbo didn't mind. He liked to think he had thicker skin than when they first set out. But what had hurt him, was his friends' laughter. That no one had corrected the Master, perhaps to stay on his good side.

But still! He had survived the goblin tunnels alone, and had saved them all from vicious giant spiders and was the one who broke them out of the Elves' prison. He had taken on Azog alone and stood his ground wielding his small sword though he was the most inexperienced and weakest.

He had proven to be useful and had kept himself tight-lipped through many of their trials.

He had rather liked to think it counted! 'Don't I at least count for more than a servant?' He thought glumly. Perhaps his skin was not as thick as he thought. He watched the fireplace, for he was in front of one, and felt his eyes sting like how eyes do before one begins to cry.

'Servant indeed!' He thought. It was perhaps a trifle, to others, but he couldn't help it.

There was someone next to him now. He didn't turn his head and acted as he didn't notice them. Bilbo was not in the mood to talk.

A hand gently patted his back and a familiar voice lightly taunted, "Little servant comfortable?"

It was Gloin. The red-haired dwarf didn't remove his hand and said, seriously, "Thankful I am to the Men of LakeTown. They know how to treat guests, wouldn't you say Mr. Baggins?"

Bilbo nodded, silently.

"Still, as kind as they are you would think they knew burglars from servants. And servants from brothers."

Bilbo's ears pricked up and he looked at Gloin. Brother? He would have been happy to settle for a member of the company! But a brother; a brother in arms. Gloin, like many of the other dwarves had doubted him harshly. But the otherwise quick-tempered, larger creature was now calling him 'brother'.

A small and happy smile formed on Bilbo's lips. Gloin gave him a final pat and ruffled his hair, then went on his way wishing him goodnight.

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**I've never written for Gloin before, but in the book he was the one that said the "more like a grocer than a burglar" line, so I thought I'd have him the one to cheer their little hobbit up ^^**

**Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think!**


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